Out Of The Past
by Vinsmouse
Summary: Summary: What connection is there between a Las Vegas CSI and The Dukes of Hazzard? An answer to the dream challenge issued on Wonderful World of Makebelieve. The challenge was to write a story in any fandom, based on a dream or daydream. This one is b
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own the Dukes of Hazzard or CSI, not making any money just cheap thrills

Warnings: Angst, Violence, Supernatural, Character Death, Language

Rating: FRT

Summary: What connection is there between a Las Vegas CSI and The Dukes of Hazzard? An answer to the dream challenge issued on Wonderful World of Makebelieve. 

The challenge was to write a story in any fandom, based on a dream or daydream. This one is based on a dream I had a few months ago.

A/N: For those who are unfamiliar with it; CSI is a show about the forensic specialist of the Crime Scenes Investigations of Las Vegas Nevada. The characters are Gil Grissom nightshift supervisor; Catherine Willows swing shift supervisor(though she used to be on the nightshift); Sara Sidle CSI Level 3; Greg Sanders CSI Level 1; Warrick Brown CSI Level 3; Nick Stokes CSI Level 3. Level 3 CSI is a higher ranking than level 1. At the end of the 5th season Nick Stokes was kidnapped by a man who wanted revenge against the Las Vegas Crime Lab and Dr. Gil Grissom. He believed his daughter had been wrongfully imprisoned because of the evidence they collected. He buried Nick alive and sent a live webfeed to the other CSI's so that they could watch their friend as he struggled to survive. They were able to find Nick in time, but just barely and he was in fact on the verge of killing himself with a gun provided by the kidnapper when he was found. For the purposes of this story the Dukes of Hazzard would be taking place in the present time. For any of you who haven't yet seen it, Joe Duke was introduced in Go West Young Dukes, a seventh season episode. Joe is the great-great-great grandfather of Bo Duke.

Italics and/or indicates thoughts

------------- indicates a change in point of view

Out Of The Past

Chapter 1

I laid in my plexiglass coffin, staring at the dirt that surrounded me, knowing I would never survive this. I couldn't believe that I was going to die like this, buried alive and slowly suffocating. Of course I could use the gun he left me, at least that would be quick, but a Stokes never gives up. The light at the end of the coffin had been coming on periodically, blinding me and heating up the small space, making it harder to breathe. I don't know how long I had been in the coffin when I lost control and shot out the irritating light. If I'd known it was connected to the fan that sometimes blew air into my prison I wouldn't have done it, I can't believe that with all my training I didn't make the connection. I'm sure Grissom would tell me it was a sympton of oxygen deprivation; he'd be right too, but I still feel like an idiot. He'd probably tell me that what I experienced was a hallucination too, but I'm not convinced of that.

I remember laying there, thinking I was going to die, seeing the cracks in the plexiglass, feeling the bites of hundreds of ants and suddenly I wasn't there anymore. I was on a horse, riding through the desert, a hat on top of my head and a rifle in the scabbard next to the saddle. Somehow, I knew everything this man was thinking, was experiencing what he was, but I wasn't in control, he was.

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_I can't wait for this trip to be over with, ah Molly it'll be so good to see you again and to hold our little Ethan in my arms. I should be in Pagosa Springs in another five days and then I can finish up and go back home. _The sound of horses coming from behind startled Joe from his thoughts, turning slightly in the saddle he saw two horses on the horizon. Suddenly shots rang out and Joe kicked his horse into a gallop, desperately trying to reach the cover of a rock outcropping in the distance. Just short of the rocks, he felt a sharp pain, as one of the bullets found it's mark, striking him in the left shoulder and knocking him from his horse.

One of the pursuing horses pulled up beside him and two men climbed down from it's back, their clothes marking them as escaped convicts. "Well looky here at the mess you got yourself into," the larger of the two men smirked, kicking Joe in the side as he spoke. "Now see if you'd just stopped you wouldn't be laying here shot in the back."

"Who are you? What do you want?" Joe asked, though he was pretty sure he already knew.

"Want? Why we don't want much mister, just some help getting out of our own mess," the first man spoke again. "We only wanted you to help us, was that too much to ask?" He asked, squatting down beside Joe and rifling through his pockets.

"How?" Joe asked, moaning in pain as the convict roughly turned him to get better access to his pockets.

"Oh we don't want much, just any money you might have...and your horse," the other, smaller man answered.

"My horse? No you can't leave me out here without a horse," Joe protested.

"Ah good ya got him," the first man said as a third man rode up, leading Joe's horse behind him.

"Of course I did," the third man snarled. "Let's see what we got in the saddle bags," he continued, climbing off his horse and moving to Joe's. Opening the saddle bags, he drew out a spare set of clothes, tossing these to the first man, he kept looking. "Damn it, he ain't got nothing in here but some papers and trinkets. Did you find anything on him?"

"Not much, just a few dollars in his pocket, a train ticket and a letter," came the angry reply. Turning around he stalked to Joe's side, squatting beside him he grabbed Joe by his shirtfront and pulled him upward. "Where is it?"

"What? I ain't got nothing else," Joe replied.

"Bull! You got to have more, where's the gold or silver you're carrying?"

"I'm not carrying anything like that, just what you found," Joe insisted.

"No, damn it everybody out here is involved with mining. Why else would you be out here in the desert?"

"I'm on my way to Pagosa Springs, a friend asked me to deliver some personal items to his wife. He didn't want it sent through the mail," Joe explained.

"A friend? Well why ain't he just taking care of it himself?"

"He died, it was his last request."

"Well ain't you a good friend," the third man sneered, angry that there was so little here for them to take.

"He saved my life, I owed him that much," Joe snapped. He regretted his momentary anger almost immediately as all it got him was a kick to the ribs.

"Yeah, well now he's gonna cost ya your life mister," the first man told him, raising his gun and pointing it at the fallen man.

"Please don't, I got a wife and son waiting at home," Joe begged. He hated the sound of his own voice in that moment, but he would do whatever it took to make it home to his family.

"Aw isn't that sweet, you know ya beg real pretty mister. I'll tell ya what, we'll give you a chance..." the first man paused, interrupted by the third man.

"Damn it Lee, what do ya mean give him a chance? You think he'd give us a chance?"

"Shut up Cliff! We're taking his horse remember, how much chance do you think he'll have?"

"Lee's right Cliff," the second man put in.

"Who the hell asked you Bobby?" Cliff snarled, angry that the other men were ganging up on him.

"Alright Cliff, let's just stop arguing and get out of here," Lee interrupted the fight before it got out of hand.

"Bye mister, thanks for the horse," Lee smirked, looking down at Joe from the back of his horse.

"Wait, you can't just leave me out here without a horse or water," Joe protested, pulling himself to his knees and looking up at his assailants.

"Ya know you got a point there, wouldn't be civilized would it? Tell ya what mister, I'll leave you a canteen," Lee said. Grabbing a canteen from the saddle horn of his horse, he threw the nearly empty container to the ground a few feet away from Joe.

"Thanks," Joe sullenly said. Reaching towards the canteen, he jumped back when the canteen suddenly moved away from him. The sound of a gunshot registered a moment later, and Joe looked up at Lee in anger at the cruel act. "You bastard!" Joe yelled, lunging towards the convict, stopping when a bullet kicked up dust at his feet.

"Well now that's not very nice, I left ya a canteen you didn't say it had to be whole," Lee smirked. "Good luck mister," he good-naturedly told Joe, and kicking his horse, he led the others away from their victim.

Joe stood watching as the three convicts rode away, leaving him stranded in the desert with no horse and no water. Realizing that standing in the open wasn't doing him any good, Joe picked up his discarded shirt and used it to fashion a makeshift bandage. After treating his wound as best he could, Joe did the only other thing he could and began walking in the direction he'd been traveling before the attack.

By the end of the day, Joe Duke was exhausted and disappointed. Though he had done his best, he had only managed to travel a scant five miles. The longer he walked, the more the lack of water slowed him down, the heat from the sun overhead sapping his energy and increasing his exhaustion. Finally, the sun sank in the sky and Joe breathed a sigh of relief as the air rapidly began to cool. The relief was short-lived; as the air cooled, so did his skin, and soon he was shivering with cold. An hour after sunset, Joe found a small rock formation to provide minimal shelter while he grabbed some sleep.

Four hours later, Joe woke from a fitful sleep that was filled with images of his wife and son mourning his death. Looking up at the night sky, he was thankful for the full moon. At least he would have some light to see by as he walked. _I'm trying Molly, I'm doing my best to make it home to you and Ethan. Lord help me please, don't make me leave them alone. Don't make Ethan grow up without a father, don't leave Molly a widow. She's too young to be a widow, I promised her we'd grow old together, don't make me break my promise. Please God help me, Amen. _Joe prayed as he walked, stumbling as he moved, the exhaustion and lack of food and water taking it's toll. Just as the sun began to peak over the horizon, Joe fell to his knees, unable to take another step.

When Joe woke up the sun was high in the sky. Running his tongue over dry lips, Joe tried to generate some much needed moisture. As he struggled to pull himself to his feet, Joe moaned in pain as the movement caused his shoulder to begin throbbing with renewed agony. Falling back to his knees, he stayed where he was, his head hanging down as he rode out the waves of pain. Finally the pain slowed and Joe again began the climb to his feet. Forcing himself to move forward, Joe stumbled on, determined to survive and make it home to his family.

The further he walked, the harder it became to move. His throat and tongue were beginning to swell from the lack of water and his head pounded in tandem with each step he took. As Joe's feet developed blisters from the extensive walking, he wanted nothing more than to stop, each step an agony of pain. He didn't though; whenever the urge to give up became too strong, he would think of Molly and Ethan, giving him the strength to go on.

No man can go on forever though, and as the sun traveled towards the western horizon, Joe was finding it harder and harder to go on. Just as he was about to collapse, he spotted a kangaroo mouse running across his path. With renewed energy, Joe followed the tracks left by the small rodent knowing that there had to be water nearby. He had traveled only a few hundred feet when he came across a small watering hole, hidden behind some rocks. With a cry of relief, Joe half ran and half stumbled to the prescious liquid. Falling to his knees he clumsily scooped up handfuls of water, dribbling them down his parched, swollen throat, desperate for the life giving substance. After slaking his thirst, Joe began to look around the area more carefully, searching for any signs of recent passage. Not seeing any other prints, he realized that the convicts hadn't come this way. That surprised him, he would've thought they would head in the direction of Pagosa Springs, or maybe he was the one who wasn't headed in the right direction? Joe had done his best to continue in the right direction, but there was no way he could be sure that he had managed it. The heat and exhaustion were playing havoc with his mind, making it hard to concentrate until he wasn't sure where he was headed. Deciding that the best thing he could do was to stay put for the night, and needing food nearly as much as water, Joe set a few small snares. Gathering up a few twigs from nearby mesquite bushes, Joe prepared a small fire, ready to be lit when the sun disappeared from the sky. Realizing that with no gun and weakened from his ordeal, he was vulnerable to attack, Joe kept a careful eye out for other travelers. An hour after setting the small snares, he heard movement as something struggled to break free of a trap. Picking up a small rock, he crept towards the trap. Seeing the small jack rabbit trapped by the snare, Joe used the rock to end it's life, in the hopes of prolonging his own. With no means of skinning the small animal, Joe used a stick to skewer the rabbit, planning to allow the fire to cook the meat while burning the fur from the body. After eating his meal, Joe spent a few hours sleeping next to his fire, enjoying the warmth it provided. Waking up about midnight, he drank as much water as he could before reluctantly leaving the watering hole. He knew it would be better to travel at night as much as he possibly could; he only wished that he had a way to carry some water with him. Resigning himself to the reality of the situation, he once again began walking towards the direction, or so he hoped, of Pagosa Springs.

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I still can't believe that I experienced several days of Joe Duke's life in only a couple of hours. Not that I plan on telling anybody, they'd just tell me it was my mind playing tricks on me. Was it? Did I just imagine all of it? Maybe an attempt by my mind to block out my impending death, I don't know, but I'm going to find out. I'm glad nobody else knows about this, I don't think they would understand my need to find out the truth. I'm not sure I understand it exactly, I only know that for some reason I lived several days of Joe's life and I need to know if it was real or a dream.

TBC

Hope y'all are liking the story so far. Please feed the muse with reviews.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I don't own the Dukes of Hazzard or CSI, not making any money, just cheap thrills.

Warnings: Angst, Character Death, Supernatural

Rating: FRT

I'd like to thank HazzardHusker for her invaluable help as beta reader

Italics and/or indicates thoughts

---------- indicates a change in POV

Out Of The Past

Chapter 2

When I got home from the hospital, I tried to forget about Joe Duke. It didn't take long to find that I couldn't. In fact, it seemed like the more I wanted to ignore it, the more that dream insisted on coming to mind. Three days after I was released from the hospital, I finally accepted that the dream wasn't going to disappear.

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By the end of the second day, Joe knew he was in serious trouble. Since leaving the small watering hole the night before, he hadn't been able to find any other water sources. He had been lucky enough to find a place to take shelter from the sun during the hottest part of the day. Joe stayed where he was sheltered from the sun until late afternoon, then he set out again towards Pagosa Springs. He had been able to use a sharp rock to hack off a piece of cactus, sucking what moisture he could from it. Joe knew he could make it easily if he could find enough cacti, which was the problem. Finding the right type of cactus wasn't as easy as a lot of people thought. Stumbling on, Joe did his best to ignore his growing thirst, something that was becoming harder to do with each step. _I'm trying Molly girl, but I don't think I'm gonna make it. I can't believe it's gonna end like this, never to see you or Ethan again._

_"Don't give up Joe, you're a Duke and they ain't quitters!" Molly spoke from beside him._

_"Molly? How can you be here?" _

_"I'm always with you my love," Molly whispered, reaching out to caress her husband's face. _

_"I wish I really was with you darlin, you and Ethan." Joe told the apparition of his wife._

_"So keep fighting my love, don't give up on us."_

Falling to his knees, Joe pitched forward onto the sand of the desert floor. His eyes shimmered with unshed tears as he watched his beloved Molly fade from sight. For nearly an hour he lay on the ground, the afternoon sun beating down relentlessly on his back. If he'd had a mirror to look in right then, he would have scared himself. His skin was dry, lips had cracked until they bled, from the heat and lack of water, and his eyes were bloodshot from the grains of sand that periodically blew into them. Somehow, he managed to pull himself to his knees, grabbing a handful of small pebbles, he struggled to his feet and walked onward. In desperation, he placed a few of the small stones into his mouth, hoping he could work up some saliva, Joe knew he had to have some moisture, though he feared it wouldn't be enough.

As the sun finally set, Joe trudged on, barely aware of the cooling air, or the darkening sky. Shortly after midnight, he had gone as far as he could and he collapsed unconscious to the ground. Awakening sometime the next day, Joe squinted up at the sky, trying to determine the time. The best he could figure it was sometime in the afternoon, unless he had his directions wrong. Refusing to let himself consider that possibility, he struggled to his knees and then to his feet. Stumbling towards Pagosa Springs, Joe only managed a few hundred feet before again falling to the ground. "I have to make it! Can't stop," he muttered to himself. Reaching forward, he started crawling, determined to make it home to his family. "God help me, don't let me die out here like this," he prayed, his voice barely above a whisper.

For the next hour, perhaps a little more, he crawled, desperation lending him strength. No amount of desperation though can overcome more than two days in a desert without food or water. Collapsing again, Joe struggled to go on, but it was no use. Finally he had to accept that he could go no further, the lack of food and water, the heat from the sun relentlessly beating down upon him had worn him out. Laying in the sand, Joe resigned himself to his death, his only real regret was that his family would never know his fate. It tore his heart in two when he thought of Molly spending the rest of her days wondering what had happened to him. He wondered if Ethan would even remember him; shaking his , he knew it was likely that his three year old son would forget him within a year, if not sooner. As Joe lost consciousness, his final thoughts were of his family.

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It had to be real, I don't care how close to death I was, or how long I'd been buried in that coffin, I couldn't have imagined it. It was too real, I could feel his anger at being left on foot in the desert, his fear that he would never see his family again. The love Joe had for Molly and Ethan was so strong, how could I have imagined it? No, it had to be real, and I was going to prove it.

For once I was grateful to be on medical leave from work, at least it would give me the time I needed. I spent a week researching, trying to find anything I could on Joe Duke. I wasn't sure of the year, but I thought it looked like sometime in the 1880's. Accessing the historical records, I began to search for any mention of a Joe Duke during that time. It took time, but I finally found what I was looking for; an article in the Pagosa Springs weekly. A Molly Duke from Hazzard, Georgia was searching for any information on the whereabouts of her husband Joe. Joe Duke had been on a trip to Pagosa Springs, a mission of mercy to fulfil the final request of a friend. Molly had expected her husband to return home by the end of the previous month. The time of his return had come and gone, with no sign of Joe Duke. Molly Duke stated that this wasn't like her husband and she was sure if he were simply delayed he would have gotten word to her. The article stated that if anybody knew anything about Joe Duke, they should contact Joe's cousin, Hank, who was currently residing at the Pagosa Springs Hotel. The newspaper went on to say that Hank would be at the hotel for the next two weeks, after which any information should be given to the sheriff, who would see that it got to the Duke family. I kept looking through the records, I had to be sure that the Joe Duke mentioned in the newspaper was the one I'd dreamt about, if it was a dream. Finally I found what I was looking for, there staring back at me was the woman I had seen in the desert, the woman who had loved Joe Duke! I took several deep breaths trying to calm my racing heart. It hadn't been a dream or a hallucination, somehow I had lived the last few days of Joe Duke's life. Now I just needed to figure out where to go from here.

I spent a couple of days simply adjusting to the idea that I had in fact lived somebody else's life, or more accurately his death. When I had reached the point of being able to accept that little fact, I had to decide if knowing that it was real was enough. Remembering the despair I had felt, or rather that Joe had felt, as he lay dying, thinking that his beloved Molly would never know his fate made the decision easy. Continuing my research, I found out that Molly had spent the rest of her life in Hazzard. She had raised their son, but never remarried. Ethan Duke had grown up in Hazzard, married a woman by the name of Mary Collins who had given him three sons. Ethan had died in the influenza epidemic that swept America at the end of World War I. Following the line down through the years, I found that the family had continued to live in Hazzard, and Joe's several times great grandson, Beauregard, was living there now. Knowing what I had to do, I asked my friend Warrick to take care of my plants for me and booked a flight.

So here I am driving through the Georgia countryside, on my way to Hazzard county. I thought about calling ahead, but then I realized that as hard as it would be to explain in person, it'd be impossible on the phone. Pulling up in front of the local sheriff's office, I parked the rental and went inside.

"Excuse me sheriff," Nick said, getting the attention of the middle-aged man sitting at a desk.

"I'm sheriff Rosco P. Coltrane, and just who might you be?"

"I'm Nick Stokes and I was wondering if you could help me to find somebody," Nick explained.

"Of course I can, I'm the sheriff ain't I? I can find anybody you're looking for, I always get my man, unless he's a woman, khee, khee, oh I love it, I love it! Who is it you're trying to find?"

"Beauregard Duke."

"Bo Duke? You come in here asking me where to find a Duke, does this look like an information booth?"

Nick took a step backwards, surprised by the sudden anger from the sheriff, "Is that a problem?"

"I suppose you're one of his buddies from the Nascar circuit, well you just..."

"Actually sheriff I've never met him. I work in the Las Vegas crime lab and I need to speak to Mister Duke about a case I'm working on," Nick interrupted. The moment he had realized that the sheriff didn't like this Bo Duke, Nick decided to play on that hostility.

"Oh, well now that's different," Rosco said, quickly changing gears.

A few minutes later, Nick left the sheriff's office with directions to the Duke farm. It didn't take him long to find the turnoff to the farm. Coming up the driveway, he saw a small farmhouse in the distance, a large barn a few hundred feet from it. In between the two structures, he saw an older pick-up, a jeep and an orange charger. Parking behind the pick-up, he climbed from behind the wheel of the sedan he'd rented and moved towards the older man who had just come out of the house.

"Hello, can I help ya son?"

"Yes sir, I'm Nick Stokes," he introduced himself and held out a hand.

"Nice to meet you Mister Stokes, I'm Jesse Duke," Jesse replied, shaking the offered hand. "These are my nephews Bo and Luke, and my niece Daisy, kids this is Nick Stokes."

"Mister Stokes, what can we do for you?" Luke asked, standing slightly in front of his two cousins.

"Well for starters you can call me Nick. I'm not here for anything from you, actually I'm from Las Vegas and I have some information that I think y'all will be interested in." Nick answered, his native Texan accent becoming more noticeable now that he was back in the south. "I know that doesn't really tell you anything, it's kind of a long story..."

"I don't know about you fellas, but if I'm gonna hear a long story I need some iced tea. Why don't we go in the house and get comfortable?" Daisy suggested. "Besides, Rosco's hiding in the trees trying to figure out what's going on," she giggled, taking Jesse's arm and starting for the house.

Once they were all seated, glasses of tea in hand, Nick began to tell his story.

"I work in the Las Vegas crime lab and a few weeks ago there was an incident. A man named Walter Gordon was angry because his daughter had been sent to prison, convicted by evidence that we collected. He was convinced that she was innocent, so he set up a fake crime scene and then waited for somebody from the lab to show up."

"You were the one who showed up?" Jesse asked.

"Yes sir, I was knocked out and when I woke up I found myself in a plexiglass coffin, buried alive..."

"My goodness," Daisy gasped, "That must've been horrible."

"It was," Nick confirmed. "Anyway, while I was in there my co-workers were looking for me. I didn't know that though, and I was sure I was going to die. I was terrified, and I started thinking about my family and friends, wondering if they'd ever find my body or would they always wonder what happened to me."

"We're all real sorry to hear about what happened to you Nick, but what does any of this have to do with us? None of us has ever been to Las Vegas and we don't know this Walter Gordon," Luke interrupted the other man's story.

"I know that Luke, if you'll give me a few minutes I can explain," Nick said.

"Luke," Jesse said, giving his nephew a look that clearly said to be quiet.

"Yes sir," Luke acknowledged, "So what happened then?"

"I'm not sure, I guess maybe it was because I was so close to dying myself, but suddenly I wasn't in the coffin anymore. Between one heartbeat and the next, I found myself on a horse, riding through the desert. Only it wasn't me, it was another man, a man named Joe Duke."

"Joe Duke?" Bo asked, surprised to hear the name of his ancestor being mentioned.

"Yeah, and I knew everything he knew. He was on his way to Pagosa Springs to carry out the last wishes of a friend when he was attacked by three escaped convicts. He tried to outrun them, but one of them shot him from the saddle. They took his horse, gun, and water, then they left him out there to die. He did everything he could to survive, traveled at night as much as he could to avoid the heat of the day. Joe found a watering hole the first day, but after that there was no more water. His only souce of moisture was what he could get from the few cacti he found. He didn't make it though, I won't go into the details of what that type of death was like, you don't need to know that. What I will tell you is that his final thoughts were of his family. For Joe the worst thing about dying in that desert was the thought that his family would never know what happened to him. That's why I'm here, there's nothing I can do to change what happened but maybe I can give Joe some peace by making sure y'all know that he didn't abandon his family."

"Thank you Nick," Jesse said, holding out his hand and again shaking the younger man's hand. "I've always heard that Molly never believed the rumors that Joe had left her and their son Ethan. She made sure too that Ethan never believed them either. The best thing she did for Ethan though, was making sure he knew his father through the stories she and Joe's cousins would tell him."

"That's good to know Mr. Duke, that was the other thing that hurt Joe. He hated the thought of his son never knowing him, with Ethan being so young he didn't think the boy would remember him. I'm glad to know that Molly kept his memory alive for their son. I'm not really surprised though, she seemed like the type to do that."

"What do you mean she seemed like the type?" Bo asked, beginning to get over his surprise.

"While Joe was in the desert he had a conversation with her, it was a hallucination of course but..."

"No it wasn't," Bo interrupted. "Tell him Uncle Jesse," he said, turning towards his uncle, his blue eyes filled with a silent plea.

"Bo's right, Molly kept a diary. She wrote about a dream she had one night, a dream of walking beside Joe in the desert, encouraging him to keep fighting. She said he promised he would try to make it home to her and Ethan. When he disappeared, that dream was one of the reasons that she never lost faith in him. Somehow, even though her family told her it was crazy, she knew that it had been real and that Joe had done his best to make it home."

"Wow," Nick whispered.

"Yeah," Bo whispered in agreement. "Um, Nick I don't really know what to say. Thank you doesn't seem like enough, not many people would go to all that trouble to tell a man's family what his fate was. At least not when it's been over a hundred years since he died. Maybe some families wouldn't really care one way or the other, but for us Dukes, family's the only thing we got and I can't thank you enough for clearing the name of my grandfather."

"You're welcome Bo, but in a way I owed it to Joe." Seeing their confusion, Nick tried to explain. "You see it was experiencing Joe's final days that gave me the strength to keep fighting. Living what he did, I realized that as long as there was life there was hope. I thought about ending it, Gordon had left a gun in there with me for that reason. I almost pulled the trigger too, but when I remembered how hard Joe had fought to stay alive, I just couldn't do it. It was right then that the dirt was pushed away and I saw the sky for the first time since waking up in that coffin. So in a way Joe saved my life, seemed like the least I could do was give him some peace."

"Have ya eaten supper yet Nick?" Jesse asked, in an effort to end the awkward moment.

"No sir Mr. Duke, I haven't," Nick replied.

"Mr. Duke? After all of this you're practically family, call me Jesse," the Duke patriarch said.

"Thanks Jesse."

"Now then, I hear a Texas accent there, how long's it been since you had chicken fried steak?"

"Too long," Nick replied, a grin on his face at the thought of a good old-fashioned southern supper.

I spent a few days in Hazzard, getting to know the Dukes, who in a way felt like my own family. It was a satisfying end to what had begun as a horrific experience, in it's own way helping me to heal. The day came though, when I had to return to Vegas and my job. I left Hazzard county, knowing that my life had just become richer with the addition of the Duke family into it.

The End

I know it wasn't very long, but ever since the dream I had in which Joe Duke was traveling through the desert, and suddenly became Nick Stokes, I've been trying to find the rest of the story. Hope y'all liked it, if you did please let me know.


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